


A Convocation of Worlds

by rabidfan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:39:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidfan/pseuds/rabidfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My Task Master has the desire to see me promoted.  To do so I must take either a wife or a Consort.  The woman I would have as wife is in training to be a Healer and isn’t willing to leave that training to be a military wife.  That leaves a Consort.”  At the still-silent man’s horrified expression, Ronon nodded.  “Yes, that’s you.”  Ronon sighed.  This was going about as well as he figured it would.  “I’m not going to rape you, little fighter.  I’m not that kind of man.  You can consider your role as more Adjunct…assistant, if you will.  You’ll be trained during your stay here to know how to behave when I’m traveling in Service to the State or on behalf of my Task Master.  Listen well, little fighter.  Listen and learn.  If you embarrass me, you will bring shame on my Task Master.  If that were to happen, I will have no choice but to punish you.  I’m pretty sure we’d both like to avoid that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Convocation of Worlds

~*~

“You know you won’t get the promotion to Specialist if you don’t take a wife, Ro.” Malla jostled Ronon’s shoulder companionably. “I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about it.”

“Melena isn’t ready to leave her training for another five seasons. We’ve been over this before.” Ronon sighed. His own training was going to be wasted because Melena decided to go for Full Healer status. Not that he blamed her. He didn’t. But they’d had an agreement since childhood to Join. “It’s just not the time to marry.”

“Then take a Consort. You know they will accept your Binding to a consort just as they would Joining. Really, you’re just being stubborn.” Sighing, Malla gave one last shove against Ronon’s shoulder and loped off to walk with other friends…hopefully more receptive to his advice.

A Consort. Right.

~*~

Walking the respectful two paces behind his Task Master, Ronon took the opportunity to listen to the conversation going on ahead of him. His Task Master was exchanging gossip (though he’d never call it that to the man’s face) with the Task Master from Shevern Squad. Kell had heard of new captives being offered for bidding that were unlike any of the native populations common to the slave pens. Apparently they’d wandered into Wraith territory and been unprepared for the meeting. Ronon grimaced. No one could be adequately prepared for such a meeting.

So caught in his own thoughts, Ronon nearly walked into Kell before catching himself. The amused looks he received clued Ronon in that he’d been ignoring the signs around him. Sighing, he resigned himself to a rougher than usual hand-to-hand lesson later to pay for his lapse.

“Adjunct Dex? Are we keeping you from something more pressing?”

Oh, Ancestor’s piss. “No, Task Master Borrin.” He straightened to something approaching military decorum. “My apologies for my inattention.”

Borrin stared at Ronon long enough to make sweat bead on his upper lip. “Perhaps you would care to accompany us to the pens, Adjunct Dex?” Borrin made sure Ronon understood that wasn’t a request. “I believe it is high time you took a Consort. Perhaps someone there will ignite your interest. More satisfying nights in your bed and less mooning over that little Healer you have your eye on will…perhaps…make you more attentive to your Masters.”

Ronon just managed to hold in the sigh that wanted to escape. Melena would be displeased to share her future household with a consort. This was going to complicate things. Not that he was being left with a choice.

“Yes, Master Borrin. Thank you for your consideration of my station.”

With a self-satisfied grunt, Borrin gestured to Kell to precede them on the path leading to the slave pens.

~*~

Walking the slave pens always depressed Ronon. He understood that Sateda couldn’t just absorb all the refugees the Wraith left in their wake, but it seemed sad to see once proud men and women reduced to slavery. Shaking his head, he made an attempt to stay focused on the men walking in front of him. It wouldn’t do to stumble into them a second time.

Kell drew to a stop before a cage. Ronon frowned. Only dangerous or violent slaves were actually caged these days. Drawing nearer, he peered between the bars. One man. One tiny, dirty, disheveled, skinny man. He sported an impressive black eye and scrapes over one cheek. Ronon had approached the bars before he’d made a conscious decision. Catching the eye of the slave he asked, “What did you do to earn yourself a shock cage?”

The slave’s eyebrow rose up towards his hairline. “Why don’t you open the door and I’ll show you?”

Ronon couldn’t help the incredulous snort. “Cute.”

“You find this one pleasing, Adjunct Dex?” Kell gestured to the waiting Pen Master, indicating a sale. “Then you shall have him. My gift to you, and congratulations on a fine choice.”

There had been a time when Ronon had wanted to serve under Task Master Kell. Now he just thought the man was psychotic and thanked his luck that his father had refused to sign him over to anyone but Master Borrin.

“Truly, Master Kell, I have no need or desire to take a slave such as this one at this time.” Ronon tried to wave off the happy Pit Master to little affect. “The training alone for such a man would drain my accounts. Perhaps some future time would be more appropriate.”

“No, this one is no slave! Of course a slave wouldn’t be appropriate, Adjunct. But a Consort; yes, that’s just what’s needed at this time. This one? This one will make a fine Consort. He has fire! He’ll make a welcome addition to your household.” With a leer, Kell leaned in to add, “and your bed. As to training? Never fear. Teaching Master Tejohn would welcome the challenge of such a treasure. I’m sure you can come to an agreement as to the costs.”

Ronon turned to Master Borrin, hoping the older man would see the folly of such an arrangement. “He has a point, Ronon.” Ronon slumped in disappointment. Borrin patted his arm in a fatherly way. “You cannot wait for Melena for five seasons. You know this. Your own career would be all but destroyed if you delayed promotion that long.” Nodding at the rightness of his decision, Borrin patted Ronon one last time. “I myself will gift you with his basic training. He has beauty and intelligence. He is perfectly suited to a life with a military man as he has military training himself, so if the Ancestor’s smile he won’t require too much additional training beyond the basics. You need not worry about the expense, you will be named Specialist with weeks of taking such a fine Consort to your bed. The raise in rank and credits will more than make up for any discomfort now. You will see. It will be for the best. You must trust my judgement and Master Kell’s generosity in this matter.” With another gesture to the pen Master, Ronon knew that further resistance was futile.

A signature arranging payment brought the guards over to release Ronon’s new Consort from his cage. Ronon watched with narrowed eyes as the captive man tensed and gathered himself as if ready to spring. Surely he wouldn’t try to fight off three armed guards. No one would be so foolish. Yet, as soon as the cage door swung open, the slave threw himself at the first guard, wrenching his weapon away and swinging it towards the two now crowding into the cage. The first went down, stunned with the stolen weapon but the other two were attacking before he could take aim. Ronon lost sight of his new property under the flurry of blows.

“Stop!” Ronon barged in, grabbing the first guard and pulling him off the battered man under him. “Stop, stop at once!”

Both guards stood back, allowing Ronon to check on his Consort. Bruised and bloodied, the man scuttled back, pressing his back to the corner of the cell. Ronon crouched down to look him in the eye.

“What is your name?” Ronon waited a beat before trying again. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore. You’re safe.” The derisive huff seemed in keeping with the suicidal bravado the captive had displayed. Ronon couldn’t help but admire the man for it, but it was going to be hell getting him trained properly. “I was hoping to avoid this, but I can see you’re going to be difficult.” Ronon stood and gestured for the guards to reenter the cage.

“Where are my people?” the captive shouted through rapidly swelling lips. “What have you done with my people?”

Ronon stood. “Take him to the Training House. Tell the teaching Master that I’ll be by in an hour to discuss his lessons and to arrange payment.”

~*~

“Ah, Adjunct Dex. I’ve been expecting you.” Training Master Tejohn gestured for Ronon to follow him into the facility that now housed his unwanted companion. “We’ve been forced to restrain you Consort to protect him from further damage. It would be a shame to mar his beauty by indulging his anger.”

Ronon could well imagine that anger. “I would appreciate it if you would give him time to calm down before beginning training, Master. He’s not from our known worlds and has been through a battle with the Wraith. He’ll need to acclimate himself to his new surroundings.” Ronon knew if their positions were reversed there would be little ‘acclimating’ on his part. He had the faint hope that his Consort would prove to be more adaptable.

“As you desire, Adjunct. As to his eventual training? Master Borrin has left his credit chit with us to be used as needed, so you need not consider the expense. So, sit with me, Adjunct. Sit with me and we will talk. Let us determine the direction his training should go. What use for him do you have in mind? A cursory examination proved he has not been used for sexual purposes on a regular basis, so we can assume he has no knowledge of the pleasure arts. He fights very well…very viciously. It is my opinion that he is a soldier. We can blunt his edges with time, but I fear he will not be bed easily.”

Ronon felt the same. In a strange sort of way, he was proud of his little fighter. Slender and substantially smaller than Satedan men though he was, he had everyone on the defensive. “I think we’ll restrict ourselves to teaching him Satedan customs and laws for the time being. I wish him well versed in what would be expected of him should he accompany me into Service to the State. Anything else at this time would be a waste of your time and my Master’s money.”

Nodding and taking notes, Tejohn paused. “Would you like to see him before we begin his seclusion period? Normally I would not allow such a thing, but as you say, he isn’t from our worlds. I think you might be able to settle him by telling him just what you have told me.”

Ronon nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. The man was probably more than a little frightened, and frightened men could be dangerous.

~*~

Ronon sighed. His little fighter was trussed up like a tikka bird being readied for Feast Day. Clean now, Ronon could appreciate his delicate skin. A soldier, to be sure, but as Master Borrin had pointed out, a beautiful one.

Crouching down to look the kneeling man in the eye, Ronon reached over to remove the gag. Reaching over to the tray he’d brought in with him, he lifted a flask of water to his Consort’s lips. “Sip slowly, little fighter. You’ll make yourself sick if you gulp it down.” After most of the water was gone, Ronon set the flask aside and sat down, crossing his legs under him.

“My name is Ronon Dex. I am Adjunct to Task Master Borrin in Majar Squad. I don’t expect that to mean anything to you other than that I am military like you. You understand orders, duty and how sometimes they come at a cost.” There was speculation in those angry eyes now, pondering Ronon’s words and where they would lead.

“My Task Master has the desire to see me promoted. To do so I must take either a wife or a Consort. The woman I would have as wife is in training to be a Healer and isn’t willing to leave that training to be a military wife. That leaves a Consort.” At the still-silent man’s horrified expression, Ronon nodded. “Yes, that’s you.” Ronon sighed. This was going about as well as he figured it would. “I’m not going to rape you, little fighter. I’m not that kind of man. You can consider your role as more Adjunct…assistant, if you will. You’ll be trained during your stay here to know how to behave when I’m traveling in Service to the State or on behalf of my Task Master. Listen well, little fighter. Listen and learn. If you embarrass me, you will bring shame on my Task Master. If that were to happen, I will have no choice but to punish you. I’m pretty sure we’d both like to avoid that.”

Ronon signaled for the guards to enter the room, gesturing for them to release the bindings around his Consort’s hands. He reached over and pulled the plate off the tray, placing it between them. “You are probably hungry, but not willing to tell me. So I’m just going to snack on this, and should you feel inclined, you could take some as well.” Suiting actions to words, Ronon lifted a slice of pel to his lips and bit into the juicy fruit. “You can try it. It’s good. Sweet.” He was pleased when his little fighter hesitantly reached for a slice.

“I can’t keep calling you ‘little fighter’, you know. I know you can speak, you taunted me at the cages. Tell me your name.” His consort swallowed the last of his slice of fruit.

“Where are the rest of my people. Did you sell them off as sex slaves too? What kind of barbarians are you people?” The anger in those beautiful eyes warned Ronon not to turn his back on his little fighter. He might find a knife between his shoulders if he did.

“I don’t know where your people are, or how many of them were in your auction group. I will see what I can learn about that. I won’t be able to see you again until your training period ends, but I will have some answers for you when I come to collect you.” Ronon gestured at the plate, indicating his desire for the consort to eat. At the negative shake of his head, Ronon sighed. He gathered the plate, flask and tray and stood. “I’ll return for you when the Teaching Master informs me you have grasped the rudimentary principles of civilized behavior. When that will be is entirely up to you.” Seeing no indication of cooperation on the other man’s face, Ronon added, “And the sooner you’re out of here the sooner you will know what happened to your people.” 

Ronon forced himself not to look back at his angry little fighter on the way out.

~*~

Summoned to the Training House nineteen days later, Ronon wasn’t sure what to expect. Was his little fighter actually ready to leave with him or were the trainers forced to kill him? It could be either or anything in between.

“Ah, Adjunct Dex. Come. I think you’ll be pleased with our progress.” He gestured for Ronon to follow him down the long corridors towards the residency. “Normally I wouldn’t allow a visit during training but your Consort has requested an audience with you and as he hasn’t spoken until this request, I felt it wise to grant it.” He stopped outside one of the dozens of identical doors. “Ah, then, here we are.” He opened the door and stepped in. “Your Master has come, Consort. Stand.” Ronon glimpsed his little fighter over the shorter Teaching Master’s head. Dressed in simple linens, he looked unharmed. Good. 

Master Tejohn stepped aside, making way for Ronon. “I will leave you with your Consort, Adjunct Dex. You may have a quarter hour. Please call on me in my office before you leave.” With that, he closed the door, leaving the two alone.

“My name is Major John Sheppard. I came to your world with five others. I have been informed that the enemy we encountered followed us here and caused the death of two of your guards. I’m sorry to hear that. We were new to the form of travel used here between worlds and were unaware that the enemy could follow us. I understand the need for punishment for bringing them here, even unintentionally. Please. Let me see my people, let them go through the gate to a safe place, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Major. Is that a name or rank?” Ronon passed around behind Sheppard. “Rank, I’m thinking. So, John. John,” he repeated, like he was tasting the name. “Let me assure you, I have no doubt that you will do what I want, regardless of the status of your people, no choices there.” Crossing back to face Sheppard, Ronon pulled out two chairs. Gesturing for Sheppard to sit, Ronon took a seat for himself. “Your people. Two didn’t survive the injuries they came with. The other three are still in the Hall of Healers. I don’t know what will happen to them once they recover…if they recover. I’ll try to find out while you finish up here.” Ronon reached over to trace along the faint scar left from the fight in the cage on John’s prominent cheek bone. “You are not being held as punishment for the Wraith following you through the ring. It is understood that you were caught off-guard by them and were fortunate to escape with your lives. You will not be harmed here. You will not be forced.” At Sheppard’s slightly relieved expression, it was clear Ronon’s meaning came through. “You will be expected to learn Satedan protocol. I am an officer in Planetary Defense. I deserve and expect a promotion to the rank of Specialist. You will learn what you need to know so you don’t embarrass me or harm my career.”

At the light tap on the door, Ronon stood. Looking down at Sheppard, he continued. “Cooperate, and I’ll do what I can for your people. That not be much, but it’s more than they have now.”

Ronon could feel the eyes of his angry little fighter, of John’s eyes, boring holes into his back as he left. He carefully didn’t turn to meet them.

~*~

Standing over the bed of the unconscious stranger, Ronon shared a look with Melena. “Are they all this tiny?”

Melena huffed an impatient laugh. “Did you insist on seeing them so you could compare size, Ronon? Isn’t your Consort living up to expectations?”

Ronon winced. Yes, his Consort was going to be a problem between them. “You know I wasn’t allowed a choice in this, Melena. I wouldn’t have chosen a Consort. You know this. Don’t punish me for what I have no control over.”

“You could resign your commission, Ronon. My father has said he’ll make a place for you in the firm. You’re just being stubborn.”

Ronon tugged at his dreds in frustration. “Can you see me keeping books for your father’s auction house, Melena? Because I can’t! I’d cut someone within a day. I am a soldier, that’s what I am. If you can’t deal with that, why did you accept me?”

A soft moan from the patient between them cut off Melena’s reply. Bending over his, she checked his pupils and nodded. “He’s waking, Ronon. I must summon his Healer. He’ll want to speak with him.” Suiting words to actions, she hurried out of the ward.

“Do you hear me, off-worlder?” Ronon asked, softly. “Tell me your name and where you are from. We can contact your people and have you returned to them.” Strictly speaking, Ronon didn’t know that was true, but he wanted information. “Tell me your name.”

“Colonel Marshall Sumner. Who are you?”

Colonel. Likely another rank. Interesting. Perhaps all of the visitors had been military. It would be helpful to see the clothes they’d been wearing and what equipment they’d brought through the ring.

“My name is Ronon Dex. You’re safe. You’re on Sateda, my world. What world do you come from?”

Sumner didn’t reply. He struggled to rise up to his elbows, peering around the infirmary.

“The others of your people are nearby. I regret to inform you that two of your number were dead before we could help them. One is still deciding whether to stay or join the Ancestors. One other is like you, recovering. You can see him soon.” Ronon paused, not knowing how much he should reveal about his new Consort. Nothing, he decided. He would say nothing. Let the off-worlder form his own thoughts on that.

“That’s all? Just four?” Sumner sighed, exhausted. “There were six of us left when the gate connected. I’d hoped we all made it through.”

Good, let the man think John remained on the other side of the ring. It was for the best. “The Healer will be in to see to you momentarily, Colonel Sumner. I will return to speak with you when he is through.” Standing, Ronon looked down on the injured man. “I will try to get you and your remaining people home. To do that, I’ll need to know where home is. Think on that.” With that, Ronon turned to leave, hoping to find Melena and settle things between them.

~*~

Twenty days of negotiation and argument later and things were still uncertain with Melena. What was certain was Ronon had managed the release of Colonel Sumner and his remaining two men. They had been tight-lipped about their homeworld but said they were the Tau’ri. They seemed competent, though unprepared for life among the Wraith threatened worlds. They were considered too weak to join with Sateda so they would be allowed to return to their homes. They were to be escorted to the ring and allowed to dial their home without interference. Borrin had been surprised at Ronon’s request, curious more than concerned, but had taken the task in hand, ensuring that any who would prefer to auction them off would not rally too much support.

Standing in the Government House just off the ring circle, Ronon gestured for his little fighter to join him at the observation port. “Watch.”

John shifted, stepping closer to the port. “What am I watching for?”

Ronon hid a smile. “Just watch.” The guards began moving towards the ring, the three remaining off-worlders between them. “Your people, Sheppard. Just as I promised. They are being allowed to leave. They can dial any world they wish and go but they will not be allowed to return.” The two watched as the ring activated and settled. Watched as the three men passed through. Watched as the ring shut down and the guards returned to their posts.

“You gave me a promise, Sheppard. If I helped your people, you would do what I want. Do you keep your word, little fighter?”

~*~

Ronon fingered the new pips on his uniform, then stroked his fingers over the addition to his Masters mark. Specialist. He’d made Specialist. He’d be in charge of his own Duty Unit. He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face at the thought.

“You’re very proud of yourself, I see.” Melena scowled. “The proper soldier. So proud in your stiff new uniform.” She sniffed. “Have you paraded yourself before your Consort? Did he kneel before your shiny boots?”

“Melena.” Ronon sighed, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Ancestor’s piss! What do you expect me to do?” Ronon held up his hand, knowing that the old argument was there, waiting to reappear. “He’s my responsibility. He will remain my responsibility. That doesn’t eliminate the place I have for you in my heart but that is up to you.” Ronon lowered his hands, looking into Melena’s eyes. “It’s time for you to decide. Do we move forward together, or do we part?”

“I’m sorry, Ronon. I will not share my house with a Consort. Choose. You say he’s your responsibility. Sell him. Make him someone else’s. Dedicate yourself to me and me alone. Leave the military, join my father in the family business and make a life with me. I won’t except anything less.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Ronon gently squeezed Melena’s hand. “I can’t be what you want. I release you from your promise. You’re free to make a more favorable alliance.” Ronon turned sharply and left. He’d eat his blade before he’d let her see the tears that threatened to spill.

~*~

Ronon leaned against the doorway, watching as Sheppard worked through an upper level of katas. His smooth, graceful transfer of motion was mesmerizing. He’d learned a lot over the last three weeks.

“As you can see, Specialist Dex, your consort has made great strides in his education. It’s a shame you refused personal training. He no doubt would have hated it, but he would be most beautiful in the endeavor.”

Ronon huffed a breath, giving himself just a moment to regret that himself. “How’s the rest of his training? Is he going to be ready to join me when my Duty squad leaves for the northern borders?”

“He will be ready. His scores have been more than adequate. He has been lackluster in his studies on the history of the Satedan great houses but he shines in all others areas.” The old master turned, looking Ronon in the eye. “He is angry, Specialist. So very angry. He pushes it down, down where even he has trouble finding it but it lies there like a scoro virus. It will come out, Specialist. It will erupt, and it will not be easily pushed down again. When it does? It may very well bring shame on you or your Task Master. Know this. Remind him of his duty.”

Ronon nodded, thoughtful. Yes, that was the concern. Shame for himself he could handle to a degree. Shame brought on Task Master Borrin wouldn’t be easily excused. Punishment would be swift and brutal and Ronon would be expected to deliver it.

“Thank you, Master Tejohn. I will return to collect my consort one week from today.”

~*~

Ronon fidgeted, pulling uncomfortably at his stiff collar. He was never a fan of the dress uniforms his regiment favored but he wouldn’t bring shame on his Task Master. He checked his reflection one last time, making sure his night of drinking didn’t show on his face. Damn Melena. Damn her pride and prudery. Her demand that he release Sheppard to be claimed by another wasn’t something he could do even if he’d wanted to. He was a gift from his task master’s rival. To release him would be an insult that would lead to conflict. They had enough trouble fighting the Wraith. No need to fight each other.

Ronon’s own inner code made him recognize that he didn’t really want to release his little fighter. He didn’t have a clue what he’d do with the man, but he was fascinated by him and desired to know more about him. He just wished it didn’t mean the loss of his relationship with Melena. It’s ending had been hard on Ronon. Seeing her, just four weeks later, walking out with one of the Healers made his chest ache. He drew himself up, taking one last look in the glass. Time to pull himself together and get on with his life as it was to be.

Sighing, Ronon pulled the polished wooden box from his dresser. His little fighter would balk at this, he knew. It wasn’t something he’d been prepared for in advance. It wasn’t until Ronon had been waiting for his credit chit to be authorized for its purchase that he’d even thought of Sheppard’s reaction and by then it was too late. Sighing again, Ronon tucked the box under his arm and headed out to collect his newly trained Consort.

~*~

Sheppard stared at the box, backing slowly away. “No. Just, no. I’m not wearing a fucking collar. Not happening.”

Yeah. This was what Ronon had expected. “It’s not a collar, Sheppard. It’s jewelry. It denotes your station. My status.” Ronon lifted the tightly woven gold circlet from the velvet lining. It was beautiful and had cost him an entire months pay to purchase. It would look stunning on Sheppard’s slender neck, if Ronon could convince him to let him buckle it on.

“Look. Do you want out of here?” Ronon gestured, taking in the Teaching House. “You’re going to have to let me put this on you first.” Ronon opened the clasp and gestured for Sheppard to come to him. “I promise, John. It’s not what you think.”

Sheppard eyed him warily. “I think it’s a fucking collar. Like slaves wear. And no matter what you paid for me, I’m no one’s slave.” He crossed his arms over his chest. It should have looked defiant but Ronon felt it looked defensive.

“It’s not a collar. You’re not a slave. You’re my Consort, Sheppard. That is a position of both prestige and honor. I know you’ve had this drilled into you by now.” He gestured to the tattoo on his own neck. “This is the mark of my station. I wear it with pride. This?” He gestured with the shining gold neck piece, “is the mark of your station. You will wear yours differently but we are both marked.” He waggled the circlet. “This shows that we’re legally Bound. It’s important. So stop being such a pain in the ass and get over here.”

John cocked his head. “You mean like a wedding ring?” Ronon had no idea what that entailed but the idea sounded similar. Nodding his agreement, he gestured again for John to come to him.

Sheppard dropped his arms and bowed his head. Ronon’s heart pinched at the look of defeat on his little fighters’ face. He steeled his expression by the time Sheppard looked up, and offered a wry smile. “Trust me, Little Fighter.”

~*~

John’s first week as the bound consort of Specialist Dex wasn’t at all what he’d prepared himself for. Others he’d met in the Teaching house had casually informed him that he’d be expected to supply sexual services for his owner, as well as fulfilling the terms he’d been trained to perform. He’d fully expected Ronon to demand sex, as he’d learned that his relationship with his what? Wife, girlfriend, fiancée? His relationship had ended because of John.

That hadn’t happened. Ronon had told him from the beginning that he’d not be forced and it appeared he’d meant it. Heaving a breath, John straightened his shoulders. He could do this. He’d be secretary, or whatever this was called, he’d do it. He’d keep a low profile until he could find a way back to his people.

“Sheppard.” John startled. Ronon smiled. “Sorry. Leave those papers for now. My Task Master has called for attendance. We are expected immediately. Go put on your dress uniform and try to do something with your hair.”

John flicked a glance at Ronon’s own heavy dreadlocks with a pointedly raised brow. Like he was one to talk?

Ronon read the look accurately and smiled wider. “Just do what you can, Little Fighter. And hurry up. We can’t afford to be late.

~*~

Ronon gestured for John to remain outside the private room where the meeting with his task master would be taking place. “Stay here, Sheppard. Watch. See if any show undo interest in our meeting.” Once he was sure Sheppard would comply, Ronon entered the private room to join his task master. He was surprised to find that his Master wasn’t alone, more surprised still by the man standing with him.

Chief Cowen of the Genii.

Ronon eased into the room and found a place against the wall to wait for his Master’s instructions.

Cowen flicked a look over to where Ronon leaned against the wall, then turned back to Borrin.

Borrin looked over at Ronon and gestured for him to draw closer. “This Specialist Ronon Dex. He will join us for this discussion.” Cowen nodded to Ronon, then dismissed him from further consideration. He gestured to the stiff young man that had come through the Ring with him, “Captain Radim. My second.”

Ronon nodded at Radim and took the seat to his master’s left. 

“You have my attention, Master Cowen. Please. Tell me what is on your mind.” Master Borrin gestured to the seats remaining at the table, smiling his politicians smile when the two sat. If they were uncomfortable being given the seats with their backs to the door they hid it well. Borrin signaled the publican to bring ales to the table. He sat, gesturing for his guest to tell him what was so important the two needed to meet in the dark corner, hidden from view.

Cowen placed a case on the table in front of them and drew a sheaf of papers from it, passing them over to Borrin.

Ronon hid his surprise with the ease of long practice. The Genii didn’t trade in information. They tended to hoard it instead. Whatever the news was it was beyond their ability to control alone. Ronon shifted. That could be bad news indeed.

With a nod towards the papers now in Borrin’s hand, Cowen began. “Something of interest has come to my attention. He leaned back as the publican placed their ales before them. Waiting until the man was safely out of hearing range he continued. “My contact among the Athosians has passed word that the city of the Ancestors is inhabited again. Halling, my contact, has informed me that a group of heavily armed strangers have taken residence in the great city, pulling it up from the bottom of the sea and are able to control its mighty weapons.” At Borrin’s disbelieving snort he pulled a likeness from among the papers and passed it over.

“As you can see, they carry unusual weapons. They are obviously military and they are reported to have ships that can take on the Wraith. Halling tells me that they are seeking allies among the worlds. They wish to take the fight directly to the Wraith. Normally, I would stay far back from that sort of insanity, yet if the tales of their weapons and ships are true there may be some hope of victory. For the first time in many centuries, we may be able to beat them back. It is something that should be examined, don’t you agree? We should find a way to contact these people. We need to know what they are capable of.”

Borrin’s attention was caught, as Cowen had intended. “We need to speak with them, Master Borrin. We need to form an alliance with them.”

“This could be our time to destroy the Wraith forever.”

Borrin thought hard. Should he share the fact that he’d met some of these people? That one of their number was still on Sateda? Yes. It was right. They would discuss this with a convocation and proceed in accord with the will of the majority. It was too important to keep secrets. Cowen was right to come.

“It is possible that I have met some of these new people to our worlds. If indeed these are the same, and their weapons appear that they are, they called themselves the Tau’ri. They came to us, gravely injured after a confrontation with the Wraith half a season ago. They claimed no prior knowledge of them, indeed seemed surprised that such beings existed. There were only four still living when they were returned to the ring. I do not know where they went. The one in charge of his men at that time was named Marshall Sumner. Perhaps we can ask your Athosian contact if he is still in charge.”

Cowen nodded slowly, deep in thought. “Do you judge them too weak to bother with?” Cowen was well aware of the prejudice the Satedan people had for those weaker than themselves.

Borrin frowned. Cowen’s casual acceptance of Sateda’s knowledge of the strangers inhabiting the Ancestor’s city told him that the Genii had already known the strangers had visited their world. As always when dealing with the Genii there were layers and hidden meanings to work through.

“I would have said yes, yet any people with space-worthy vessels and the obviously powerful weaponry these images show should not be lightly dismissed. And if they have indeed harnessed the power of the city of the Ancestors they will be formidable allies indeed.” He flicked through the likenesses again. “I suggest we call for a convocation of worlds. We cannot allow this opportunity to pass by.”

Cowen nodded his agreement. “The problem of contacting them remains. How will we invite them if we cannot speak to them? No one has access to the gate on the world where the great city is located.”

Ah, Borrin thought. The real reason for the visit then. They suspected Sateda was in contact with these new comers to their worlds. So be it. Borrin shifted his gaze over to Ronon. “We may have a way.”

~*~

Ronon resisted the urge to pace. His Master was still, watching him with the beginnings of exasperation. Forcing himself to stand in proper respect, Ronon allowed himself to question the decisions made.

“With all due respect Master Borrin, but have you all lost your mind?” Ronon flinched at the shocked glare his task master shot his way. “We had him separated from his people, locked naked in a shock cage, beat him then sold him as a Consort and now we expect his undying gratitude and his assistance in contacting his people. His people that we allowed to think he was dead.”

“You forget yourself, Specialist Dex.” The deliberate use of his new title was both reminder and warning. “I will grand you some leave as you have become attached to your Consort, as it should be. But you would do well to remember that you are first and always Satedan. Your duty is to your world and your people and only then to your Consort.”

Ronon bowed his head in apology. “Forgive my imprudent words, Master. But the question remains. How can we expect Sheppard to champion us to his people? More importantly, how can we expect his people to trust us?”

Borrin nodded his acceptance of Ronon’s apology. “You make valid points, Ronon. However, contact with these Tau’ri is vital, and your Consort is the best tool we have for this task.” Borrin placed his hands on Ronon’s shoulders. “I hear your concerns, Ronon. I share them. Do not voice them outside this room. Do not voice them to your Consort.” Borrin held Ronon’s gaze a moment longer. Nodding again at the acceptance he saw, he released Ronon and took a step back. “Go and prepare your Consort for his part in Sateda’s future.”

~*~

Ronon rapped his knuckles against the door jam, grinning when John jumped. “Where are you, little fighter?”

John scowled at the hated nickname. “Just thinking.”

Ronon looked out the window at the view that had captivated John. The Ancestors ring. Stifling a sigh, Ronon turned to face John. “Thinking about your people.”

“Yeah.” John shifted uncomfortably. “No insult intended to you, Ronon. You’ve been great, really great. But I should be with them. It’s my duty to protect the civilians. I can’t help but wonder what’s happening with them.” He shrugged. “I hate not knowing.”

Ronon sighed. He didn’t want to cause hurt for his little fighter, and making contact with his people without allowing him to return to them would be painful indeed. “Master Borrin has asked that we make an attempt to contact your people, John.” Ronon gently pulled John towards to couch to sit with him. “It seems your people have found reinforcements and have been attacking the Wraith with vessels in space. It’s been decided by the council that a convocation should be called so all efforts against the Wraith can be coordinated and it is desirable for your people to be here for that.”

“Do you think you can contact them?”

Bypassing the question, John asked, “What exactly is this convocation?”

Ronon sighed. His little fighter was still fighting. Ronon respected that, but it was going to make his life difficult. “All the known worlds meet together when something of significance calls for unity of purpose. A convocation can be for anything really. A war among allies, the Wraith beginning a new assault, illness spreading between worlds. This will be a military meeting, obviously.” Ronon cuffed John affectionately on the shoulder. “Stop avoiding my question. Do you think you can contact them? Will you make the effort for us? For me?”

John shifted uncomfortably. “Ronon.” He rubbed the back of his neck in the way that Ronon knew meant he was extremely uncomfortable. “You bought me, Ronon. I meant what I said, you’ve been great. But face facts, it could have been a lot worse for me. There was an expectation among the others in the pens that sex with the new owners was a given. Failure to obey any order at all would lead to a beating or worse. How can you expect me to subject my people to a society that condones that sort of behavior? I can’t. I won’t. Not even for you.” John crossed his arms across his chest. “To the best of my knowledge, they’re somewhere safe. I won’t betray them. If that means you have to beat me? So be it.”

Ronon growled his frustration. “I don’t want to beat you, Sheppard. Gods and Ancestors, man. You make me insane.” Impulsively, Ronon reached over and pulled John into his arms, lifting him off the couch in a full-bodied hug. “My little fighter.” He rubbed his bristly chin over John’s face making him hiss and flail. Laughing, Ronon set him back on his seat.

“My Task Master has given his assurance that the representatives your people send will have diplomatic protections. They will be on par with all the known worlds, Sheppard. No captures, no sales, no attacks. We have very little time before the convocation is called, but I can give you a day to consider the matter. Would it help if you meet with my master and perhaps the Principal over him?”

~*~

Pausing outside Government House, Ronon straightened his dress uniform and made sure John’s uniform was perfect. “Remember your training, little fighter. Do not embarrass me today. Wait for permission to speak then state your worries as clearly and concisely as possible.”

John slapped Ronon’s hands away from his hair. “Stop. You know you can’t fix it.” John tugged his jacket down impatiently. “I heard you the first five times you told me, Ronon. I’ll remember.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Sheppard.” Ronon put his hand on Sheppard’s elbow. “Let’s go get this over with. It won’t do to keep them waiting.”

Ronon pulled the door open and strode through, trying to convey a confidence he didn’t actually possess. He could hear the footfalls of his Consort following behind him. Drawing to a halt in front of the raised dais where his Task Master, his Task Master and the Principal for the district waited, Ronon crossed his right arm over his breast. To his left he felt rather than saw John doing the same. 

Returning Ronon’s gesture of good will, Task Master Pitc gestured for Ronon to step forward. Ronon tensed, hoping John had paid enough attention in his protocol lessons to remain where he was. 

“Specialist Ronon Dex reporting as ordered, Master Pitc.”

“Excellent, Specialist Dex. And who have you brought with you today?”

Ronon held his hand out to John. Immediately, John placed right hand in Ronon’s left. The right hand is the weapon hand; his Teaching Master had informed him. Placing it in the hand of his superior, or over his breast shows he felt no animosity towards those around him.

Ronon pulled John up to stand directly at his side and released his hand. “My Consort, Major John Sheppard of the Tau’ri.”

John straightened to attention and bowed his head. He remained silent, waiting.

“With your leave, Specialist. We would address you Consort directly. I realize this is highly irregular but we have much ground to cover in a short amount of time.”

“Of course, Master Pict.” He turned to John. “Answer the Master’s questions as you would my own, Consort.” The words were clipped and cold, as custom dictated. Ronon hoped John could read the apology in his eyes.

The barely concealed smirk on his Consort’s face said that he had. “As you dictate, Master Dex.”

“I was given to understand that your Consort wasn’t in training long, Specialist. Yet, here he stands, the model of decorum. And quite beautiful. You are blessed by the Ancestors indeed.” As intended, the words caused Sheppard to stiffen. Ronon held his breath. “You have leave to speak your mind, Consort Sheppard. I would hear your words.”

“Thank you, Master Pict. For your attention and for your kind words.” 

“Hmm. So tame, are you? Are all Tau’ri so easy to tame, Master Borrin? So pretty and agreeable?” Ronon tensed further. He didn’t know why Pict was trying to provoke Sheppard but he was but a hairs-breadth away from success.

“With respect, Master Pict. You have requested my Consort’s assistance in securing an audience with the Tau’ri. To him, this would be a betrayal of his people. He did not look favorably upon the events that led him to my household and would spare his people a similar fate even at his own cost. I will not force him in this matter, nor look kindly upon any who would use him for sport. He has earned that respect and I will give it, no matter the cost.” He flicked a glance to his left, taking in Sheppard’s demeanor. He seemed calm but he was poised on the balls of his feet…ready to run or fight.

Good.

Pict sat back, a satisfied smile in place. “No offense was meant to your Consort or yourself, Specialist Dex. I have the reports of the Ring guards, the pit guards and the guards at the Teaching House. They leave little doubt that Major Sheppard is well able to defend himself. What they did not say was if he had the patience to wait out uncomfortable confrontation.” Pict smiled with some warmth at Sheppard. “It would seem he has. Just.”

“Now then, Major Sheppard. Specialist Dex tells us you have issues inviting your people to the proposed convocation of worlds. This could mean only two things. One, you do not believe, even with help from your powerful home world, that they are strong enough to defend themselves against us. Or two, that you believe, despite assurances from your Master, that we will attack them at an unguarded moment. Which of those most accurately describes your unease?”

“The later, Master Pict. When I came through the Ancestor’s Ring, what my people call the Stargate, I was injured. Those of my people with me were also injured, some so severely they died. We were attacked at an unguarded moment. We were locked in cages. I was sold. You cannot expect trust from those you treat as cattle, Master Pict. I do not trust your people or your motives. I have no reason to.”

Ronon groaned. He wanted to pull his dreads in frustration but forced himself into stillness. John wasn’t wrong. He had no reason to trust any of them. Stating things so baldly wouldn’t do either of them much good however.

“Your Consort speaks very plainly, Specialist. Is this always the case?”

“Yes, Master Pict. I put no restrictions on his speech.”

“Hmm. I am not sure I approve.” Both Borrin and the still silent Principal nodded agreement. No one spoke so plainly to superiors and came out ahead.

Pict turned to the Principal. “Prefect Torma, do you wish to address the Specialist and his Consort?”

“I do not approve of you lack of training, Consort Sheppard. Nor do I approve of your lax control over your Consort, Specialist Dex. That being said? You are not wrong in your anger. Our dealings with your people were less than honorable, and for that we can but apologize. Change comes slowly to Sateda, Consort. Slowly and not without pain. We are an insular people. Proud, even arrogant in our strength. Who can stand up to us?” Torma tapped the table in front of him. “I will tell you who. The Wraith. They stand tall before all, even mighty Sateda. To end the scourge of the Wraith we must unite. We must make use of everyone’s strengths, shore up everyone’s weaknesses. If worlds continue to fall, if the Wraith continue to grow in numbers and appetite, we are all doomed. Your people, Major. My people. All the peoples of the galaxy are at grave risk.”

Torma leaned back, looking every year of his advanced age. “It has been said that your people have the weapons of the city of the Ancestors at their disposal. Ships and armaments from your home world. If these things are true, they are powerful allies to be won. If only partially true, they will be worthy to fight with us, if they will. More important to you, Major, if the stories are just that, your people will need protection during the war to come. It is simply in their best interests, no matter their circumstances, to attend the convocation and take their place in the gathering of worlds.”

~*~

John fingered the radio the gate guard handed him. It had been Ford’s. His initials were scratched on the housing. Ford had been one of the few who’d left through the gate. John hoped he was still alive.

“Dial the ring, Consort Sheppard.” Task Master Borrin nodded at the ring attendant to step aside. John had explained to Borrin and the others that he didn’t have the address of any current bases. His codes would have long ago been rescinded. But there had been fallback sites…ones deemed safe to wait for help that were monitored frequently. Hopefully, someone was still at the Alpha site and would be able to pass a message along. It was the best John could -would- do.

Once the wormhole stabilized, John keyed his radio. “SGC expedition Alpha, this is Major Sheppard. Tango, Alpha, Delta, Bravo, Zeta. Please respond.” Silence was the only answer. John shrugged, looking over to Ronon. “I warned you it was a toss-up if anyone would be there.”

“Try again, please.”

“SGC expedition Alpha, this is Major John Sheppard. Authentication code Tango, Alpha, Delta, Bravo, Zeta. Please respond.”

“This is Alpha. Please be advised that your authentication codes have been rescinded. Do not attempt to enter the wormhole. The gate on this end is guarded and you will not survive. Please stand by, Major Sheppard. Close the wormhole on your end, Major. We will dial the address you have used in twenty minutes.”

“Acknowledged, Alpha. Sheppard out.” He signaled the ring guard to cut the connection.

“What now?” Ronon asked.

“Now we wait. The Alpha site will contact the base. Whoever is in charge there will contact us.” He shrugged. “No clue what happens after that.”

~*~

Exactly twenty minutes later the ring began to dial. The ring attendant watched as the symbols began to light up and reported, “It does not appear to be the same address as before.” The group gathered together in the safety zone to wait. 

John startled when Ronon cuffed his shoulder. “Breath, Sheppard. Not the time to pass out.”

John was saved from needed a witty comeback when the wormhole whooshed open and his radio crackled to life.

“Major Sheppard, this is SGC base. Stand by for General Jack O’Neill.”

John was surprised. General O’Neill had been the leader of the SGC on Earth. What was he doing in Pegasus? He gave himself a mental shake. It didn’t matter right now. 

“Major Sheppard. General O’Neill here. I’m sure you understand the need to verify your identity. Stand by as we send through a M.A.L.P. Follow the standard procedure.”

“Understood, sir. Standing by.”

“What’s a malp?” Ronon asked.

“Mobile Analytic Laboratory Probe. It’s a mobile device that can link up with base camp, transmit pictures and voice and gather intel about the surrounding area by the gate.”

The group gathered around the ring leaned forward with interest when the M.A.L.P. trundled through. “Kind of ungainly.” Ronon sniffed, unimpressed.

“Yeah. But we prefer not to walk into environments where, I don’t know, someone might lock us up, smack us around and sell us.”

Ronon rolled his eyes. “Smart ass.”

John approached the M.A.L.P. and crouched down to be in full view of the camera. He held up his dog tags and repeated his name, adding his serial number for the record. “Sir, if you care to send through a representative, the Satedan’s have an offer they’d like to discuss.”

No sooner had John straightened and returned to Ronon’s side when a group of heavily armed Marines stepped through, followed by Ford, an Air Force major John vaguely remembered from his time at the SGC and General O’Neill himself.

John stepped forward, stopping half way between the two groups. “General O’Neill. Welcome to Sateda.” He turned to the group to his back. “May I present Principal Prefect Torma, Grand Task Master Pict, Task Master Borrin and Specialist Dex. Prefect, this is Major General O’Neill, Major Lorne, Lieutenant Ford.” Introductions done, he returned to Ronon’s side.

Quirking his eyebrow at the retreat of his major, O’Neill stepped up. “Well, then. Now that we’re all friends, what can we do for you. And, oh by the way, why haven’t you returned my major?” General O’Neill smiled, “You have to admit, there’s been plenty of time to contact us before now. So…”

Torma stepped forward., matching the ground gained by O’Neill. “Please, General O’Neill. I understand your concerns. We will address them completely. Come. Join us for a meal and we will talk. There is much to be discussed.” He gestured to the Marines forming a half circle behind the officers. “Your men can remain here or accompany you, whichever makes you the most comfortable.”

“Ford, keep Stackhouse, Markham, Dalmers, and Bates. Any activity, any at all, contact me immediately. Lorne, you’re with me. Miller, you and the others follow us.” O’Neill looked over at Sheppard. “Major, walk with me. I’d like a sitrep.”

John shot a look at Ronon. It wasn’t lost on the General, adding to his concern. Ronon nodded and moved to join John with O’Neill.

“He is my Consort, General O’Neill. He will give you your sitrep,” he paused over the unusual word, “but he will not do so without me.”

“Consort.” O’Neill leveled a hard look at John. “And this Consort position kept you from reporting in for three months?”

“He hasn’t had access to the ring, General. And his position as my Consort was not his choice.”

Torma stepped between the two, eager to calm the rising animosity between them. “Specialist, remember your oath. General I assure you, we will answer all your questions completely. Major Sheppard has not been harmed in any way. Please. Come to the Government House with us, have a meal and we will talk.”

“Fine. Major, Specialist. Lead the way.”

~*~

Walking into the citadel the required half pace behind and to the side, John looked around. There were military personnel everywhere. Most didn’t appear to be armed, but he was unfamiliar with the uniforms and the worlds they represented. It was easy to pick out the Marines among the groups, uniforms both familiar and comforting. Back in the grey and black uniform of the SGC, he felt more himself even though the gold neck piece Ronon had put around his throat still lay under his collar.

The meeting between the leaders of Sateda and his commanding officer had been just as terrible as he’d thought it would be. Ronon and General O’Neill squared off on John’s ‘captivity’ for the better part of the short walk to the Government House where their meeting was to take place. Finally, Ronon had stopped the entire entourage and turned, nose-to-nose with O’Neill. “I won’t force him to stay, General. That’s not who I am. He will, however, remain my consort until I die or he does.”

“Consort,” O’Neill had seemed stuck there.

“Yes, Consort. Sheppard already told me it means something different for you people. Here, it’s a title of station. His rank, if you will. I won’t lie, some become lovers, but that isn’t what Sheppard wanted and I honored that decision. I assumed you would show him the honor of letting him explain his station and duties like a civilized man but civilized behavior seems beyond your abilities.”

O’Neill opened and shut his mouth a few times, processing the insults.

“My apologies, Specialist Dex. You’re absolutely right. I made assumptions based on my own misunderstanding. Major Sheppard is important to us, and realizing he was alive caught us off guard.” He held his hand out. “Perhaps we can start over.”

Ronon had simply stared at the hand, clearly at a loss.

John cringed. “Ah, sir? On Sateda holding your weapon hand out to someone is tantamount to calling them out. They greet each other like this,” John crossed his weapon hand over his chest and executed a small bow.

“Ah. There we go again. Assumptions.” He crossed his right hand over his chest and imitated Sheppard’s short bow.

Ronon smiled and repeated the gesture. “I can see we have to work on our communications.” He looked over at John with a small smile, thoughtful. “Perhaps that’s something we can employ my little fighter for. He’s come to know our ways; he can act as interpreter.”

“Jeez, Ronon,” John grumbled.

“Little fighter?” O’Neill laughed.

“You’re all so little! But when he first came to Sateda he took on three guards; dislocated one’s shoulder and broke another’s jaw. Little, but feisty.”

John rolled his eyes when the entire group laughed. At least it released the tension and the rest of the trip to the Government House was without incident.

~*~

Standing at the gate with the General, John shifted uncomfortably. It had been decided that John would remain on Sateda at least until the Convocation. After that he would be expected to return to Atlantis with his people. Ronon had been both pleased for John and deeply unhappy. John didn’t know if he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or what, but he felt guilt for leaving Ronon behind.

Principal Prefect Torma crossed his right arm over his chest, granting O’Neill the deeper bow given to an equal. “I look forward to your return, General. We will speak again at that time.”

O’Neill repeated the salute. He turned to look at Sheppard. “You sure you want to stay here, Sheppard? I won’t make you if you’re uncomfortable, no matter what was agreed to.”

“I’ll be fine, General. It will give me an opportunity to bring Ronon up to date on what the Tau’ri expect as far as protocol.”

The General’s snort gave voice to his confidence in Sheppard’s abilities as a diplomat. “I’m bringing a representative from the diplomatic core with me. Hopefully we can fix whatever you mess up.” The wormhole engaged behind them and the Marines began to form up behind O’Neill. “Stay sharp, Sheppard. They haven’t mistreated you, but they did let Sumner think you were dead or captured by the Wraith.” At Sheppard’s nod of agreement, he continued. “Sumner will be coming along as well.”

“Yes sir. I’m glad he recovered.” And he was. It was his personal opinion that Sumner was a rigid tight-ass but that was just his opinion. Didn’t mean he wanted him dead. Drawing himself to attention, he offered his general a textbook salute.

O’Neill returned it, just as seriously. “At ease, Major. We’ll be back for you in two weeks.”

~*~

John watched Ronon prowl around their quarters. He didn’t know what had him so upset but he figured Ronon would spit it out eventually.

“I never wanted a Consort.”

“O…kay.” John knew that already. Ronon had planned on a wife, not a personal assistant.

“See, here’s the thing.” Ronon tugged his dreads. John winced. That had to hurt.

“The thing?” John prodded when it looked like Ronon had stalled out. “What thing would that be?”

“I promised you I would never force you. I swore a blood oath to my Task Master that I would never force you.” Another pass across the empty floor space brought him back to stand in front of John. “I never will, you have to believe that.”

“I do, Ronon. I do believe that.” He reached out, tentatively placing his right hand on Ronon’s left. “What’s this about? Just tell me, ‘cause I gotta say, you’re freaking me the fuck out.”

With a moan, Ronon spun and repeated his trek around the room, stopping once again in front of John. “I want you. Ancestor’s piss, Sheppard I want you so much I can’t see straight. I promised to let you go back to your people, to come and go as you please but all I want to do is mark your neck and take you to my bed.” Breathing hard, Ronon put his hands on John’s shoulders. “Please, please, please, little fighter. Tell me you want those things too.”

John was still and quiet for what seemed to Ronon an eternity. Finally, he tilted his head, baring that elegant neck, and looked up flirtatiously through his lashes. “Just not where it shows, okay?”

~*~

John shifted experimentally. His ass was a little sore, but not nearly as sore as his neck. Ronon had been serious about needing to mark him. Sadly, John knew most, if not all, of the resultant marks would show. Good thing they had most of the two weeks left before his people came back. He’d tried to explain the laws about homosexual relationships but Ronon had snorted his distain and flipped him over to take him again. 

John hadn’t had too much interest in making him listen after that.

Ronon stirred next to him, finally waking. “Good morning, little fighter. I should have known you’d fight in bed, too.” There had been more than a little tussling the night before, to their mutual satisfaction. He reached over and cupped a palm over John’s bare ass. “Not too sore this morning?”

“No. Some, but not too bad.” It had been John’s first penetration, and he’d been nervous but Ronon had been a thoughtful and careful lover, saving the roughhousing for afterward.

“After we eat, I’ll let you see how it feels the other way around.” Ronon waggled his eyebrows in a way he was convinced was sexy. “I want to feel you inside me and I think you’ll enjoy it too.”

Mouth dry with want, John could only nod. Swallowing he managed, “Are you sure we have to eat first?”

Laughing delightedly, Ronon pulled John to him. Perhaps breakfast could wait just a little while longer.

~*~

John tugged his Satedan uniform jacket straight. How did these people expect to function such an uncomfortable uniform? After two weeks back in his BDU’s, he was even more aware of the contrast.

Ronon nudged him, jerking him back into the moment. “Where are you, Sheppard?”

John smiled. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

Ronon snorted. “Stay with me, Consort. No wandering thoughts today. Mind your teaching. Do not embarrass me.” With that, Ronon stopped before a guarded door.

“Specialist Dex and consort to attend Task Master Borrin.”

One of the guards flipped through a list, running a finger down the column of names. “Yes, Specialist. You’re expected.” He handed Ronon two sets of credentials. “You are to report to meeting room two.”

Ronon clipped his credentials on his uniform blouse and repeated the gesture with John’s. With a nod for the guards, he led the way through the doors and into the Meeting House.

“Pay close attention, little fighter. Listen and remember everything.”

“You just call me that to piss me off, right?”

Ronon barked a laugh. “It’s an…endearment. You most truly are a fighter. A warrior.” The pink spreading over Sheppard’s cheeks amused him. Ronon pulled up to his full height and looked down, “and you are most assuredly little.”

At John’s squawk, he laughed again and pushed him towards the meeting room.

~*~

The room was huge, but filled to bursting with representatives of the allied worlds. It was both impressive and humbling to the Earth people. They’d made assumptions about the battle readiness of the native populations without any input from the natives themselves.

Assumptions. Once again, the roadblock to success. O’Neill sighed. They were going to have to learn. Perhaps some sort of liaison position wouldn’t be a bad idea. Sheppard did seem to have a bead on Satedan customs, and they in turn seemed to respect him. Surprisingly, Sheppard held a position of respect with all the allied worlds of Pegasus they’d spoken to. True to what Dex had said, here the title of Consort was one of honor. O’Neill watched as Sheppard and Dex circulated among the delegates; charming and disarming the wary without seeming effort. It was impressive. Having Sheppard represent Atlantis while still holding his position as Consort for Dex had delighted the committees they’d taken part in. Atlantis now had allies in the fight against the Wraith. One’s that shared his horror at the thought of them finding the new feeding grounds the Milky Way would offer. That too had been a surprise. Again, O’Neill found himself battling his own prejudices and assumptions.

Food for thought. For now, he needed to figure out how to integrate Atlantis into the military response to the Wraith threat. They had ships and weapons, Pegasus had people and know-how. There was no reason they couldn’t succeed. He straightened his shoulders and turned back to the group.

It was time to bring the fight to the Wraith, and he intended to win.

~*~

Waiting in the hallway while the leaders of the Tau’ri and Sateda exchanged gifts and goodbyes, Ronon tugged John into a secluded alcove. “I’m going to miss you so much, my little fighter.” He ran a fingertip down John’s cheek, cupping his chin and drawing him into a quick kiss.

“I’ll miss you too.” John flicked an eye towards the bend in the hallway, making sure they were alone. “But I’ll see you. I’m going to be on Sateda frequently.”

“Official duty, Sheppard. No time for this.” Ronon ran his hands down Sheppard’s body, cupping his ass.

They jumped apart when they heard the door open around the corner and the voices of their respective leaders leaving the meeting. Straightening themselves, they stepped forward, hopefully not looking like they’d been doing anything but waiting.

“Ah, Specialist. Excellent.” Principal Prefect Torma called out. “Come, your Task Master has a duty for you to perform.”

Ronon came to attention before Borrin. “Specialist Dex, we’ve been discussing your Consort’s role and have concluded it is an onerous duty for one man alone.” He struggled to keep a smirk at bay at Ronon’s confusion. “So. It has been determined that you and your three-member Duty Squadron will join Consort Sheppard and three members of the Tau’ri. Together you will take up the duties outlined for your Consort.” Nodding at the two flabbergasted men, he continued, “there is much work to be done in a short amount of time. Reports will be given each week to all interested parties. You have leave to go pack what you will need for your first week of your new assignment. You and your Duty Squadron will meet here for transport in two hours.” Smiling openly now, he finished, “dismissed.”

After Ronon had hurried away, O’Neill turned to Sheppard. “Task Master Borrin has suggested that you integrate one of the other native populations onto your team, Major. His suggestion was one of the Athosians and I can’t fault that choice. I recommend you make introducing yourself to them on Athos one of your first priorities. First I suggest you find quarters large enough to share, with additional rooms nearby for your team.”

John was stunned. “Yes sir.”

Clapping his hands together, pretending not to see how it startled the Satedans, O’Neill turned to the ring attendant. “Dial Atlantis, please.”

The wormhole formed and their IDC’s sent, O’Neill gestured for John to proceed him through the ring. “Let’s go home, Major. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

Home sounded awesome. He wouldn’t need to choose between his duty to Earth or to Ronon, he’d have his own gate team! The twelve-year-old inside loved that. He was looking forward to interacting with Atlantis again. “Yes, sir. It’s been too long.”

“Then after you.”

~*~


End file.
